a social worker knows her own intervention

like a doctor knows her own medicine. Fortunately, I know... the cure, the immediate first-aid treatment but not the prevention. I shouldn't be writing this, but just because writing is an intervention, I wanted to and for the same reason that I have something to look back or I hope to laugh about in the future.

I doubt that this is just stress. I'm worried that it's close to depression. But since I know a little how to deal with these things, I consciously apply interventions to myself. It's silly really. At times, I just hoped I didn't know the formula of my mathematical problem.

Recently, I've been insomniac. I couldn't sleep at night worrying, and end up in slumber in the morning. I wanted to, but I could only do that on weekends. So, on weekdays I struggle against sleepiness in the dead hours in the office doing paper works and as the clock strikes five, I rush home only to fall asleep on the bus and get nauseated again until 2:00 in the morning.

Last night was the worst so far since there was also headache. "I want to fall asleep" was my mantra while fighting myself from thinking. Because, when I do, it's like an unending web of hopes, of problems and of frustrations. Recently, it has not been of inspirations. I grabbed my mobile phone, looked for the media player and played "Canon - the music box version". That calmed my neurons while concentrating on the tune.

What played in my mind while the tune was playing was memories of childhood. The time of my life where I had no obligations - just doing good in school. I had all the time for myself for doing the things I like - for drawing, for playing outside, for playing computer games with my brother. Some of my happiest moments also subconsciously slipped in my mind such as:

1. the birth of my younger brother - My father was playing with me the living room of our home in Bicol and asked me "would you love your younger brother?". Of course, I will. I do.

 Picture break - We were playing with the wooden horse when my father cold us to take a picture.

2. stretching and exercise with Papa, at  the rooftop of the field office, somewhere in Sorsogon, of an NGO where my father was working.

3. watching the stars at night, at the same rooftop, while eating sandwiches with cheese spread with Papa.

4. playing as princesses with my cousins using the curtains of our grandfather's "salas" (living room).

5. playing hide and seek, "Langit Lupa", and "Sili-sili" at the vacant lot / backyard of my cousin's home.

6. getting excited for getting a new dress for my Barbie doll, as a reward for doing good in school from Papa.

7. getting excited for my brother who was getting a gift from me on his birthday (a soldier set, much like a terrarium) which my parents didn't approve because it was not for his age.

8. playing "Patintero" at black out nights, thereby using the moonlight with neighborhood friends.

9. one afternoon, after school, spent running around the neighborhood with my first and childhood crush (on elementary), who later on became my first boyfriend (on high school).

I know I had more, but it rolled back to the attic of my brain.

And all I could remember while waking up the next morning was,
"I'm back to the present".

I have an idea how this depression will be solved, from its roots but at this time, I couldn't yet. I would be able to talk more about it later too, when God permits. I'm alright. I will be better, in the future.

Out of greatest rejection, comes our greatest direction

That was a quote from a friend from Palawan named Arl Marie. It was random for her to send this text message but it meant a lot to me, because it's actually my learning for today.

This morning I couldn't help myself from crying bitterly while eating my snack on a fast food restaurant. I didn't want to cry but the emotions are just too much that tears kept falling. I was in a public place, but the tears didn't care. It was too much frustration and anger to the self - for taking too long time to decide. Indecision is the next thing that I should conquer within myself. What serves as a cup of comfort for me today was a line from B.O.B.'s Airplanes that goes...

"So Airplane, airplane, sorry I'm late.
I'm on my way, so don't close that gate.
If I don't make that, then I'll switch my flight
And I'll be back right at it, by the end of the night."

Earlier this morning, I went to the Department of Social Welfare and Development - NCR. A friend from UP informed me of a job opening, 3 weeks earlier from today. After too long indecision, I finally decided to give it a try, after reading that it involves community organizing and with focus on street children in Manila. After 24 hours, I learned that my application was too late for the DSWD Central Office. And after taking a trip to Old Manila and lurking its streets, I learned that the only opening on the NCR Field Office was for Administrative Assistant.

On the way to the NCR office, I decided to take a pedicab from Legarda St. corner Recto Avenue only to find out that the office was just a few blocks away from the pedicab terminal and which I could do with 2-3 minutes walk. I hated the pedicab driver who took advantage, and didn't just advise me to walk. However, I kept patient in front of him, considering the difficulty of him getting passengers day in and day out.

 "Sometimes, we become close minded which also closes the opportunities that are just close. [kringchan via Twitter]" If I hadn't been too focused on "I should get a pedicab to go to DSWD after walking from Sergio Loyola St. to Legarda St.", I could have seen the DSWD office which was obviously only a few walks more. More so, if I hadn't been closing my mind and limiting myself from the opportunities that the world is giving, I would be standing still, with no growth. Years ago, I always told myself not to work under a government office because it would just take away my passion upon seeing the reality of corruption. Today, I learned that DSWD (despite the fact that it is the LEAST corrupt government office of the Philippines), is still the best institution for us social workers to apply our knowledge and skills. On one hand, government fund is bigger and more stable than that of non-government organizations, all the more requiring genuine gatekeepers. On the other hand, social workers were trained for "standards" and the "standards" are applied and are required to be safeguarded by DSWD.

Before I went out of the fast food, I read my resume again from top to bottom. I remembered an advice I read somewhere (sorry, if I can't put reference to you my dear article) that goes "if you feel too far from your dreams, take a moment to pause and look back on how far you have reached, savor that moment of you still having the gap between the reality and your dreams, and refresh yourself of your motivations for fighting". That's exactly what I did. I've been an intern and volunteer for five NGOs already. I've worked with ACCE for 2 years. From here, I want to study Masters in Psychology, to work for DSWD sooner or later (if God permits) and still looking forward to that day where I would enter my class and ask my students "so... what brings you here?". 

 

My present work (Child-organizing and organizing guardians for BCPC)
Taken during field work in Perez, Alabat Island, project site of ACCESS.
Just finished a week of tutorial class and meeting with guardians.

Truly, "there is no perfection, there is only.. life." 

keeping it sane, by retreating to my favorite place

which made me insane, five years ago. My life in "Peyups" (University of the Philippines) remains the greatest turning point in my life. It pushed me to work hard, to keep on chasing my dreams and to value honor and excellence. These gave a lot of pressure as insanity over ideologies sunk in. It made me "grow-up", although not too much in the physical looks. But I'm glad, it is the same place that keeps me sane.

Over the weekend, amidst confusion over opinions and haziness of being busy, I was happy to retreat, and find myself again.

 
"Cause there's a blue sky, waiting tomorrow" - Blue Skies by Hale

I really enjoyed this weekend which my family and one of my best friends prepared for me. It felt like a long weekend. It felt like I've been away from work long enough and sufficient enough to inspire me again. It felt like I've reconnected with my self, from long ago, like being able to attend a retreat.

From yesterday, I've been spending time with watching:

1. How I met your mother series
2. A Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Thai movie)
3. Kung Fu Panda (though I've seen it in theaters, it still feels well seeing with little brother)

4. Camp Rock 2 (led me to practice guitar, later this evening)
5. Street Dance
6. and now - (Harapan: Debate about Divorce Bill in Philippines, should it be passed or not?)

Being able to attend the mass (with Mama and Ian) at the UP Chapel in the morning made me nostalgic over my first year in the university. A year where hopes were high and when I could feel that me and my friends believe that anything is possible now that we're given a chance to study in UP. We called our selves "Alien Society" or Aliens in reference to "people who had the highest grades in UP, who was intelligent enough to be regarded by other persons as out of this world" .

After the mass, I insisted that we eat at Rodic's [since 194], the oldest canteen at UP and home of the best tapsilog in town. My brother also loved it! I thought that sharing the things you love with your loved ones is a beautiful thing by giving them a splice of your life. For 4 years that I studied in university, I was away from Mama and Ian, who were both living in our hometown, Bicol. It was only at present time, when everyone is now living in Quezon City, that I could have the chance to share them the places, stories, food, etc. that kept me company at those years that I felt lonesome.
 

"Ang sarap ng tapsilog dito Ate!"
(My brother enjoying his tapsilog)
 

After the long day, I say.... "I STILL love UP".
 

And... I'm off to see the debate. I missed so much already. I'd like to listen to opinions of various people with regards to the Divorce Bill. Although I don't like the timing of debating about it at this time because it is a "U-turn" to the long debate about passing the Reproductive Health Bill.

 

 

the new generation call their other half, "half-orange".

People at my age. Well, that's really sweet, for it might be what most of us are looking for - someone who'll like be our twin, some romantic love story where in your other half is in to your interests too, just like in the movies. Not only the vivid color of orange, makes it interesting but also the metaphor that when you cut an orange in half, you'll get the same thing, twice the quantity.

 

*Click Photo for Reference.

People at my age. In a relationship. Dating. Looking for someone. Getting married. Having children. I'm happy that most of them have theirs, and I'm happy that I don't. (Well, maybe.) But at least, I'm learning so much from not having one, and enjoying too all the while dreaming of that person, that days, when I'll be finally in a serious, committed relationship with someone responsible enough to take the commitment. Recently, I've felt a couple of mixed emotions such as happiness over just having a friend by your side who'll stick with you, at your worse and would care to treat you with coffee and ice cream to lift up the mood. I also felt sadness with a friend who told I could have been the perfect girl for him but I am most suited to be treated like a sibling, to him. I felt excitement overhearing someone liked my best friend and with that excitement, came a little bit of anger for he really never liked it. I felt contentment over just having found friends I could keep for the rest of my life, but a little afraid that I won't be entering into a relationship soon, because of them. I was confused why a friend was confused over my joke which sounded serious, but seriously it was only a joke. And just today, I felt inspired when I heard Canon played in string quartet and imagined that is just the perfect music for a proposal. (In totally unrelated news, I love blogs because I could just write with my run-on sentences without being scolded by my father). I also wonder, why fathers should always have a say about your boyfriend. Anyhow, even me... I'm all psyched up with these relationship thingy but... recently, I realized I'm just not ready for it... anymore.

People at my age. We wonder how it feels like to just to lay around and watch TV with someone during rainy days. We get hurt with our dreams shattered away with people leaving. We have a minute in every day thinking about the person who keeps us sad or happy at night, at the moment. We cry about past love stories and reminisce about it again and again. We love, we fall-out, we regret, we justify but in the end, realize that it was all worth it and think "it was good while it lasted, the moments have been seized". We hate the bitter after taste but still hope to meet the dessert, sometime in the future. We have friends whom we talk about it again and again. Probably, the media, the movies, the arts, the literature or life itself is to be blamed. We are just a generation, that is so into love.

writing, I miss you.

Last time I checked, I last wrote on this journal on April 11, 2011 and it felt like it has been forever. There is no new learning I'd like to share today, just the feeling that I've become so lonely and not myself without writing. I can't say I was too busy or lost the interest to do so.  Maybe, it's both or maybe not.

This blog post will probably pointless, but I just missed letting the thoughts flow from my brain to my fingertips, as the page gets filled with words. I missed.... writing.

Tonight, I phased-out during the bus ride and as consciousness sprung back at me, I was surprised that I was not in a familiar place anymore. I tried to call my friend to ask for help but he didn't answer. I guess my father was right when he said, it's only you that could help yourself. When I got down the bus, a pang of fear struck me. In the past 5 years, I thought I could live alone but the truth is, I couldn't. I was scared to take another bus again that would go the opposite direction and take me back. I was also afraid to ride a taxi, considering exposes about taxi drivers kidnapping, hold-up and schemes. At last, I bet for my life and just prayed the taxi driver would be kind. In the 4 months, that I went home in Fairview, I never felt so comfortable seeing our old torn door.

Last night was a shock. As a friend bid goodbye to me and explained reasons for leaving, I couldn't say a thing. It was as if my words were stolen by her angst and anxiety. As I said goodbye seeing her rode the jeepney, I smiled. I wondered if I could ever give that same smile again to her again. We rode another jeepney and there, the tears fell. Fortunately, the rain was puring hard so no one could ever notice. I cried for the guilt of things that I could have done for her, when she felt so tired, stressed and confused. Her decision seem undebatable and I just hope for a miracle to happen. I realized, I was still an immature 21-year old trying to tell the whole world I could do things, but the truth is, I still cannot.

Stories of my friend who is now a teacher in Ateneo High School is interesting. He told me about first-day jitters, about students telling him directly at his face that he's "not interested" with him, about colleagues's personality that unfolds to him gradually each day, about future activities of him with his students in a public school for community service in the form of free tutorial classes and... more. In the end, I envy him because his work seemed interesting. I'm glad he found something that would give him happiness and would give him opportunity to help his family, at the same time. He would be able to hit two bird with one stone in the next couple of years.

In my elementary years, I loathed the teaching profession. "I don't want to be a teacher, I don't have interest in what they do, They seem to tired everyday", were my words as a child. Unknowingly, the work of a social worker, my present work, requires more. Gradually, realizations unfold. In the middle of bus rides, I caught myself imagining myself inside a class room giving instructions in a workshop. I even felt the thrill as if I was in the reality of doing the workshop. Sometimes, I would catch myself saying "If I was the teacher, I would have prepared more." More so, when I teach our scholars in Alabat Island, I feel happy just being able to share my knowledge to them and seeing them respond "ah! that's why! (especially in Science, my favorite subject in elementary)". Little by little, I assessed what's happening with my unconscious for it is as if I have longed to be a teacher all my life. And this envy - this envy over my friend who shared stories about his first day as a teacher, it brings me to the conclusion, I was made for teaching.

But when I start to plan in detail, I lose self-confidence. Now, I am a social worker in an NGO. This year, I was asked to do assistance in both Administrative tasks as well as Education, Training and Advocacy. Today was a sad day really. I spent the whole day planning how to organize papers, files and folders - inputting it into a computer. I finished it, but it was dragging. While doing it, I thought "I didn't study social work to clean up clutters of papers!" but when I finished, I was consoled with the thought that "If this would be implemented, then our work would be much more efficient and effective not only for staff but for the people we serve." So, actually what I did today is still a task of Social Work. It is just not what I love to do. :(

When I plan modules and workshops, I always ask myself "which strategy is best for people to get what I wanted them to learn from me?". I always worry about "what they would remember after I had given this lecture or workshop". Five minutes before implementation, I always feel anxious of my plan and I secretly pray that there would be typhoon, no electricity or participants would be absent just so it would be cancelled. However, during implementation, I seem to lose myself. I do things according to plan and it seems like the other part of my brain which is hidden works for me. Exhaustion, then comes after that is, fulfillment.

I would love to spend my everyday thinking about workshops, reading or making workshop materials with my own bare hands. That'll probably what I would like to do 3 to 5 years from now when unfortunately I got uninterested with the routine that I have been doing in the last 2 years. For I am a person, who doesn't like routine, but spontaneity. 

However, it's quite out-of-line if I'd teach elementary or high school. I'd like to also share my experiences with matured people. I would like to hear fresh ideas from young people (like me). I would like to hear debates and see things get more clarified and clear as debate progresses. And so, I dream to be a university professor.

of Social Work? of Community Development? of Sociology? of International Relations? I don't know yet.

I'm now really very excited to come back to the university and get back to studying. I haven't chosen yet but I thought would get my dream more specified in the future, when I am already in the middle of my studies. That's what happened in my undergraduate studies, by the way. I've come to love social work while I was studying it. I'll get to know if the water's really cold, as I rush into it.

That is all for now. I'm glad I've let out these thoughts tonight, before tucking myself in my blanket.

P.S.
I hope to get my own camera soon, as I would start Project 365 from my 22nd birthday,
to discover, enhance and play with my skills in photography.